It itched. She hadn’t touched it since she’d woken up and found the bandage there, she didn’t want to see what was under it. She’d carefully showered around it – she’d had practice after being shot in the shoulder, after all – and tried to ignore it as she dressed and helped Trixie prepare for school and went to work. But it itched.
“Hey!” Ella bounded up to her desk where Chloe was clutching her coffee and not itching anywhere at all, no sirree. Ugh. “So how does it look?”
“Huh?”
“You knooow! Mine’s looking great. Had my neighbour bandage it because I can’t see what I’m doing and you know, he’s a nurse.” She winked and wriggled her eyebrows, and it was… disturbing. “I can do yours if you want me to?”
She probably should face it at one point, right? “Fine,” she said with a sigh. Following Ella to her lab, she saw a bit of gauze peeking out from under her low ponytail. “So, um. What is it?”
“Hm?”
“Er, yours.” She had a strong suspicion, but…
“Oh my god you don’t remember?” Ella closed the door of her lab and turned around to look at her. “You got drunk enough to forget what we did and you’re still here at work in the morning? Wow.”
“Well, I, um. I had practice when I was younger? Also, plenty of water before bed. Learned the hard way.”
“Wow. Hey, we took pictures, didn’t you check your phone?” At Chloe’s shifty eyes, she must have guessed.
“Afraid to? Or… did you forget that, too? Anyway, nevermind, sit here. It can’t be easy to wrap your own shoulder, right?” She waved at a stool as Chloe checked no one could see her from the precinct; but since Ella dealt with dead people bits and other unsavory things the lab was conceived to preserve more delicate souls from the gory work she did with delight. (Still, ew.)
So Chloe sat, undid a few buttons on her shirt and let it open to bare her shoulder. Her sports bra went along her spine instead of chafing whatever it was that probably didn’t need anything rubbing on it, but even if there was no bra strap touching it still felt strange to let a colleague run her hand on her skin.
“You didn’t even try to change it, did you?” She felt Ella take the bandage off, clean… it, cover it with some sort of cream, then rewrap it. “There. You have to take good care of it if you want it to look good.”
She slid her shirt back over her shoulder and redid the buttons as Ella grabbed her phone. “Here, look!”
Vague memories started to float back to the surface of her thoughts now, as they flipped through the photos. Cocktails, tapas, more alcohol, promises made; Maze getting a knife out to make a blood pact; Linda pointing out it was somewhat unsanitary. This, she already remembered. But then – the picture of an all-night tattoo parlor neon sign. All four of them grinning at the camera, their eyes bright and their skins flushed.
Ella’s nape, slightly shaved, hair held up; while needles were finishing a dove holding a branch, its wings wide open, half over her scalp and half over her naked skin.
Linda’s side, right under her armpit – the left one, because it’s closer to the heart Ella said – with a snake entwined around a knife that looked suspiciously like one of Maze’s.
Very high up an inner, bronze-colored thigh, was another snake; this time around… thick-rimmed glasses.
And then, the last one. A gun, with the LAPD motto around it – To Protect and To Serve. Right over the scar left by the bullet.
All four were stylized, bold designs that showed just what they needed to in a few strokes.
“They’re… good, actually.”
“Well, yeah. Lady’s a friend of Maze’s.” She bounced a little on her toes. “Cool, huh?”
“…Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” She’d never thought she’d get a tat, but if she had to, it wasn’t a bad one to have. Her duty and a reminder of her dad too; forever inked into her skin, right over where it had almost cost her her life – but she’d lived. And carried on.
It was good.
Chloe spent the rest of her day doing paperwork, helping a colleague prepare for his testifying at court for a case they’d worked on long before she’d ever met Maze or Linda, and generally puttering about – the kind of day that was slow enough to be a good post-binge day. Ella redid her bandage before she left home, having A/ successfully avoided Dan’s questions when he noticed her wincing as she put on her jacket before going out for a sandwich and B/ managed to convince Maze to get Trixie from school when they called to say her daughter had a cold and should go back home.
All in all, not a bad Friday.
The next Monday was much busier, and she welcomed it after a weekend spent between her mother’s visit, trying not to snap at her daughter when she whined too much at having to stay indoors, and pretending she didn’t see her flatmate craning her neck to try and get a glimpse of her shoulder.
A small-time producer had been found stabbed to death in his bed, and she called Lucifer to give him the vic’s address. He met her there, as inappropriately gleeful as usual when someone kicked the bucket. Well, to be honest, the guy had a reputation for letting struggling young actresses believe he’d give them a good chance at making it in the business and having them end up in cheap porn flicks which they usually didn’t want to do and even sometimes in prostitution rings. Chloe knew the type, after Hot Tub High School she’d seen her fair share of this shady kind of producers; and so she felt no pity either.
The investigation didn’t take a lot of time anyway – his much abused ex-wife confessed after they found a knife still covered in his blood in her dishwasher. She’d probably get a lenient sentence given the circumstances.
Going back to her car, Lucifer went to pat her shoulder to congratulate her; but at her hiss he jumped back.
“I’m sorry Detective, did I hurt you? Old wound still bothering you?” He blinked at her, looking adora – looking confused.
“No, no, just – it’s nothing.” He didn’t budge and raised his eyebrows, waiting. “I’m fine, Lucifer.”
“But?”
“No but.”
“But, Detective?”
“ImayhavegottenatattoolastFriday.” At the wide smile that lit his face, she thought she maybe should have just said she’d strained a muscle carrying Trixie too much over the weekend or something similar. “Not showing you.”
“Aw, I promise I won’t touch – unless you ask me to, of course.”
She rolled her eyes at his wink and got into the driver’s seat. “Answer’s still no.”
As expected, he pouted a bit; but soon he seemed to have forgotten all about it; chatting about the case, pestering her to come let her hair down at Lux, badmouthing Dan (well, it was true his attire today screamed cop – and not only that, but also cop-who-has-nothing-clean-left-but-exceptionally-ill-fitting-closet-dregs) and generally being his obnoxious self.
She agreed to come to Lux Saturday night though, because he made the puppy dog eyes at her and, although everyone insisted he always caved when she asked him something (which, hah – couldn’t they see how stubborn he was?), she was also well aware she had a hard time resisting the patented Lucifer Morningstar sad face. And since Dan would have Trixie for the weekend…
She spent Saturday afternoon pampering herself. Maze came home from a job while she was just getting out of the shower, and locked herself in the bathroom while Chloe painted her nails – a shiny blood red on her toes, matte black on her fingernails. When Maze walked out wrapped in steam and, well, nothing else (she took some liberties when Trixie wasn’t here) she put her foot on a stool and produced a knife from god knew where, and started… carving her leg?
“What are you doing?”
“If I want to keep it, I have to make it scar with a hell-forged blade; otherwise I’d just heal.”
Chloe looked closer. The ink had indeed disappeared from her skin, but the glasses and snake design was now scarified into her skin. She gingerly grabbed a roll of kitchen paper (she’d rather not smudge her polish, thank you very much) and handed it to Maze. “You should mop the blood before it drips and stains anything.” Not that she was bleeding a lot, but it was the principle of the thing, you know?
Because now, a naked bounty hunter who believed she was a demon cutting into her own flesh in the kitchen was just another day in the life of Chloe Decker. Hah.
“So why did you choose the glasses and snake thing?” she asked as Maze blotted what little blood had welled up.
“I like snakes.”
“Hm hm.”
“They remind me of hell.”
“Lots of snakes in hell?”
“Some. And Linda chose a snake too.”
“Ah, the weird caduceus thing?”
“Not a caduceus, a rod of Asclepius. Only one snake. She explained last Friday, Decker; weren’t you listening?”
“Some parts are a bit, um. Foggy.” she waved a hand at Maze’s side. “The knife isn’t very rod-y.”
Maze grinned. “I know.”
“You’re really close, Linda and you.”
“She was my first friend here. I won’t forget it. Her.”
“That’s sweet.”
She got a disgusted look as only answer, and Maze put her foot back on the floor and dragged Chloe to her bedroom. “I know you have some decent clothes in there. We’re going to make you look great tonight. Lucifer will only see you.”
Chloe wasn’t sure it was what she had in mind, especially given what Maze deemed ‘looking great’, but hey – who was she kidding. His eyes on her, admiring and blind to anyone else – it was a heady thing. Even if it shouldn’t.
As usual for a Saturday night, there was a huge crowd in front of Lux, but as usual too they got in very quickly. At least this time Chloe didn’t get nasty side-eyes because she was getting in with jeans, work boots and a plain leather jacket. This time, she was wearing a long but slitted skirt, a sparkly crop top that left her midriff and shoulders bare, and gorgeous, high-heeled sandals that Maze had unearthed from her own closet. “Show these legs off,” she said, “let him want to see more of them, whet his lust. There, you’ll do, Decker,” she’d finally said after putting the last touches to the loose bun she’d made. She’d thrown a soft, red silk scarf around her neck and grabbed a sparkly purse and felt like a million bucks.
It was true she looked good – make-up a bit more provocative than usual, smoky eyes and red lips and she’d never have paired that skirt with that top, but… it worked. It still looked like her. She felt confident as she walked in the club, confident and powerful and feminine. She flashed a bit of thigh with every step, her pale pink skin contrasting with the black fabric, the sharp visual echoing the sound of her heels. She needed no one, but she could have anyone if she wanted to.
And tonight, maybe she did.
She remembered almost kissing him upstairs on his balcony, what seemed a long time ago now. She remembered how he’d looked, all soft and surprised and so unlike his usual self – a side of Lucifer she thought not many had ever seen, and that he trusted her with often and without reservation. So much had happened since then, but she thought maybe it was time; maybe it was time to go back to that quiet moment that, perhaps, had been a bit too early then but now felt… right?
He turned to them as soon as they walked in, gesturing at the bartender – it was manbun today, and Linda was already there – to serve them something. Maze hugged Linda and winked at manbun, and Chloe decided to let them have their little moment; especially when she saw Maze’s hand brush against her friend’s side and Linda’s against a dark-skinned knee… and her fingers slipping a little higher. Manbun seemed to approve, too.
So she wandered off to Lucifer, who was leaning against his piano with his usual tumbler in hand.
“Detective,” he said. His gaze burned as he looked her up and down – not so lecherous as admiring, wanting… but she knew he’d never touch her if she didn’t ask him to. For someone who said they were the devil, he was quite gentlemanly when he wanted to be. Although he could also be a jerk; let’s be real, Chloe.
“Thank you for inviting me.”
“You know you’re always invited.”
She smiled. “I guess I do.”
They watched people dance and drink around them for a while, each sipping their drink and enjoying their arms occasionally brushing, his breath stirring her hair when he turned his head her way. When she’d finished her cocktail, he put her glass next to his on the piano top and dragged her to the dancefloor. His teeth are very white, she thought looking at him. His hands very big, one on her lower back and the other holding her fingers, so tiny in his.
He looked so happy, and… she felt happy, too. She could feel her scarf flying behind her as they moved, as he sometimes twirled her, as she sometimes swayed her hips a bit more purposefully, letting the slit on her skirt open a bit wider. It always made his eyes that bit rounder, his lips part that bit more. His tongue peeked out once to wet his lips, and he quickly looked back up at her eyes as if he’d been caught stealing a cookie from the jar. She saw Maze sitting at a table from the corner of her eye, smirking at her and raising her own tumbler to them as Linda chatted to – oh, hi, Ella. Chloe waved at her, and Ella grinned and winked back. Her friends – there for her, with her. Whatever happened.
She took him to the bar after a few songs, and they sipped their drinks side by side. He let a finger glide up her arm, looking intently at her, at her reaction. His finger reached the edge of her scarf, slipped the tiniest bit under it. “Will you show me that tattoo tonight, Detective?”
Maybe, she thought. “I thought I was here to have a good time, Lucifer.”
“Oh, of course.” He almost seemed chastised. “Tell me, anything you’d like me to play for you tonight? It’s almost time for my set.”
“No, just… whatever you want. You’re always good ad it.”
He was obviously pleased by her answer, and she joined her friends at their table as he made for the piano. She hadn’t lied, he always did more than justice to whatever he played, whatever he sang. It was true tonight, too.
As Maze’s heel ran along Linda’s calf while Linda herself smiled into her cocktail and blushed when manbun brought them fresh drinks (it was all really very cute), Chloe checked Ella’s dove tattoo. Her hair had started to grow again, hiding part of it; and she noticed once it had entirely grown back only the bird’s legs would be visible, forming a heart shape on her nape. It was something that would probably raise less eyebrows and provoke less questions than a more obvious religious symbol, but it still was a symbol of hope. Of love.
Lucifer finished the last song and ignored all the people trying to touch him, to get his attention; he only made a beeline to her, his dark eyes fixed on hers. She felt Ella’s elbow in her side, saw Maze raise her glass to her, Linda smile proudly at them both – and so she took his hand and let him lead her away, to his private lift.
They didn’t look at each other as they went up, but their hands kept bumping and sliding and never quite grasping each other. He walked towards the bar first when they reached the penthouse, then stopped and stood there, looking a little lost.
“I’m here,” she said after a while. His fingers fluttered and he turned back to her, still wordless. “Lucifer?”
He breathed out, long and soft. “Detective, I…”
“Come,” she said, taking his wrist to lead him to his bedroom. She glanced out of the window; in the dim apartment the city lights almost looked like stars – a night sky at their feet.
He seemed a bit more in his element next to the bed, and he walked closer to her, almost – almost – confidently. She could feel him radiating heat along her back, warming her. His palms came to rest on her skin, right under her elbows; and their eyes met in the mirror of his closet. His hands moved up, a slow glide she could hardly feel so light his touch was; and he bent his head to breathe her hair. When he reached her scarf, he stopped. “Can I?” he asked, voice low.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He lifted the silk carefully away from her, baring her shoulders to him. “Oh,” he exhaled. Careful, worshipful almost, he kissed it – his lips right there, on her revealed skin; his breath cooling it and warming her at the same time. “It’s… so very you.” He stared at her in the mirror, pride in her and awe that she was here with him evident on his face. “You’re so many things, to so many people. You’re a good detective, you’re a good mother, you’re a good friend, you’re…” His voice broke, and she felt her heart stop and restart in her chest. “And I, I’m just…”
“Shh, Lucifer.” She turned her back on the mirror to face him properly, feeling his hand cover her tattoo. “I like you as you are.”
“But…”
“You.” She cupped her hands around his cheekbones and let him look his fill, see the truth of her words on her face. His lips moved but no sound came out. He was, quite literally, dumbstruck. She took a few steps and he walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the mattress, and he quickly sat down.
The way he looked at her… it made her feel powerful; cherished and precious and loved not just for her looks, but for the whole of her. She felt his hand alight on her ankle, slide up her calf, her thigh. Then the other go behind her waist, finding the zipper on her skirt. Tugging it down. It fell to the floor with a rustle, and stepping out of it she remembered what he’d said once – that he was a leg man. It must be true then, because he was looking and stroking and caressing hers like there was nothing else in his world.
And, as Chloe pushed his shoulders down to the bed so she could crawl over him and finally, finally kiss him, she thought that it was a nice world to be in, really.